


Captain Sherlock and His Best Mate

by consultingdetectivesherlockh



Series: Prompts and Collaborations [3]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Pirate, Kidlock, Storytelling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-04
Updated: 2013-04-04
Packaged: 2017-12-07 11:56:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/748245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/consultingdetectivesherlockh/pseuds/consultingdetectivesherlockh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock is sick, crabby, and doesn't want to sleep. However, he agrees to try to nap if Mycroft tells him a story.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Captain Sherlock and His Best Mate

**Author's Note:**

> I just wanted to do cute okay. It's really cute.  
> I got the prompt: "Your little brother/sister is sick. Tell him/her a story that will help him/her go to sleep."

Sherlock sneezes loudly, rubbing his eyes. He fiddles with the blanket wrapped tight around his small, skinny body. This is the third time since his tenth birthday that he’s fallen ill because of his ‘adventures’ or little ‘experiments, Mycroft snorts to himself. His amusement isn’t from his brother’s illness, but from the boy’s constant interest in the world around him. It makes him proud, even though he’s only seven years his senior and clearly too young to be judging Sherlock’s life, he thinks his brother’s mind will allow him to do well.

Mycroft returns his attention to the little bowl in his hands. Mummy handed it to him to feed Sherlock, along with a cool cloth that concealed tiny pieces of ice. Chicken soup, one of Sherlock’s favourite sick day presents. The most favoured item, a strawberry ice pop, isn’t supposed to be given to him until after he feels better, but Mycroft knows he’ll give it to the little Holmes without much of an argument. Right now, however, he’s more focused on getting Sherlock to sleep off the worst of his fever.

Sherlock grumbles something about being too warm and reaches for his teeny stuffed hedgehog, hugging it close to his chest. He rolls away from Mycroft, “I don’t need anything. Go away,” and pouts his lip. A sigh falls from Mycroft’s lips, and he puts the wet towel on Sherlock’s red forehead. A small, relieved puff comes from his mouth. Mycroft can’t help but laugh and ruffle Sherlock’s hair.

“Petulant as ever. Mummy told me to take care of you, Sherlock, so that’s what I’m going to do,” he replies smoothly, pulling the covers back, propping the little boy up and slamming the soup in his lap. He shoves the spoon into Sherlock’s fingers, making him drop the hedgehog. “Finish the bowl so she won’t be angry. I’ll get you a pop later if you do.”

Sherlock bites his smile and nods, slowly eating the noodles and chicken bits. He is otherwise unresponsive, so Mycroft entertains himself by looking around the mess Sherlock calls his room. There are scribbles of bugs and numbers everywhere in what appears to be his attempt at a scientific catalogue. He smiles and looks back at his brother just as the towelette falls from his forehead and onto his chest. Mycroft picks it up and holds it to his head.

“Thank you,” Sherlock mutters, slurping up about half the bowl in one go. He looks up at his brother with a small smile and puts the spoon down. “I’m not hungry anymore.”

“Fine,” Mycroft huffs. He grabs the soup, puts it on the table to his left, and eases Sherlock back into his covers. He pats the boy’s head and brushes away a few damp curls before replacing the ice towel. “You should sleep.”

“No,” Sherlock snaps, shaking his head so violently that it falls off and Mycroft has to reposition the coolness yet again. “I’m not tired.” Mycroft nods, holds Sherlock’s little fingers and places the little stuffed animal in them.

“If I attempt to tell you a story, will you nap?” he asks softly. Sherlock’s head bobs and his lips curl at the ends. “As you wish.” He clears his throat and sits on the bed with Sherlock. Sherlock shuffles over to make room for him.

“Once, there had been a fearless pirate. He was careless, brilliant, and the youngest sailor to own a vessel in the entire world. Many pirates feared him and his big ship, the S.S. Holmes. The pirate and his ship were said to have gone everywhere, even to the forbidden Bermuda. The pirate, Captain Sherlock, was even said to have lived there with a dozen mermaids.

The Captain and his crew were the most interesting lot. When they traveled, the would only bring sweeties and breads, and anyone who even thought of bringing green food on their ship would be tossed off at the nearest port. Not many sailors were casted off simply because they knew Captain Sherlock’s love for strawberries, though that’s beside the point.

Sherlock and his crew sailed out one day to find a treasure that was rumoured to be better than any candy. They were on the water for days and days, searching endlessly until they came to a little island. When they docked, they were greeted by doves and little fairies.”

Sherlock laughs and snorts, “illogical.” Mycroft throws a pointed glare his way. Sherlock clears his throat and mumbles a quick apology. He pokes Mycroft’s cheek to make him continue speaking.

“As I was saying, the crew and their captain made their way onto the island happily, even carelessly. They never expected to come across any troubles, especially not a sad little boy that was barely older than the great Sherlock himself. He scoffed at the shorter, blonde child, sucking on his lolli carelessly, and grabbed his arm. The boy was feisty, though, so he pushed him over and took the sucker out of Sherlock’s mouth and put it in his own. Little did he know that the kid was, in fact, the treasure they were searching for.

‘Who are you?’ Captain Sherlock yelled. He grabbed the sucker and shoved it back into its rightful place. The tan-haired child put his arm over his shoulder and led them forward.

‘I’m John, your prize. Come with me, Mister, and I’ll bring you to the other gifts that come with me,’ he answered. His hand encircled Sherlock’s and they ran forward with uncontained excitement.

‘I’m Sherlock,’ the captain giggled. All traces of anger left him when John said prize and gifts. He wanted his treasure. ‘What are you, John?’

‘A friend. The _best_ friend you’ll ever have,’ he laughed. Sherlock and John continued running until they reached piles of gold and chocolates and other assorted goodies. The crew helped them  carry the treasure on board, leaving John to be carried by the captain himself. They tripped a few times on their way back, but no serious injuries were sustained. When they reached the Holmes, everyone gathered around to welcome the new shipmate. A party was held in his honour. After it ended, the ship set sail for another adventure, now more cheerful than the vessel had ever been before,” Mycroft finishes. A snore comes from the covers. Sherlock, now sleeping, clutches his hedgehog as tightly as he can. He murmurs in his resting state about the little boy, his new friend, and strawberry pops. Mycroft chuckles and stands, taking the soup, cloth, and spoon with him. His hand grasps the knob for a moment.

“Goodnight, dear brother,” he whispers. The door slowly opens, and he slips out of the room silently. It closes behind him without a sound, leaving the dreaming little boy to himself, his crew, and his ship.


End file.
